


With Diamonds in your Hand

by voices_in_my_head



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: 52 weeks challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 07:34:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6602305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voices_in_my_head/pseuds/voices_in_my_head
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He rang the doorbell, which was more than he usually did for most people. Not that Detective Douche would appreciate the thought, he imagined. The man disliked him greatly, not that Lucifer would say the feeling wasn’t mutual. Yet, he’d gone to save his life… perhaps Daniel Espinoza wasn’t as black and white as he’d first believed."</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Diamonds in your Hand

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: A story that begins with a gunshot. I've basically been binge-watching "Lucifer" and I have so many feels and this just wouldn't leave me alone, so here you go. Follows ep 11.

There was a bang. That was the last thing Lucifer remembered before falling on the floor. That and thinking, “really?” because what was the chance that after convincing one person to not kill him, another would immediately try and worst of all, actually succeed. Only to him did these things happen.

Except Lucifer didn’t die and wasn’t that a surprise. He came back with a gasp. He remembered the last time he’d been hit with bullets… just outside his club. But he pushed the memories away, focusing on his chest and how while his Armani was completely ruined, his chest was as perfect as always.

And then there was Detective Douche and why was he even there? Or caring about him? Or in such a horrible state? Well, curious questions they might be, but Lucifer had more important matters, involving his would be killer and oh, how he was going to enjoy appearing in front of that woman and ruining her fun.

And so, Lucifer left the Detective at his apartment and went downstairs, except Detective Decker ruined his party, and really, all he wanted was some alcohol.

Which he got. In great amounts. The Britneys had even stayed behind for some fun, but he just wasn’t feeling up to it.

Lucifer thought back on the events of the night. His brother had sent someone to assassinate him. It didn’t surprise him that much, though the fact he’d taken someone from Hell to do it, did. He wondered why Amenadiel hadn’t simply hired a hit man. It was Los Angeles, it would have been simple enough. Or exploded his club. Honestly, there were much better ways to kill someone than bring someone from the dead.

Deep down, Lucifer knew why Amenadiel had done it, but he didn’t want to think of it.

He took a sip from his whiskey. He should have taken Britneys’ offer but they’d gone home to enjoy each other’s company.

Lucifer sighed into the glass. That had been just the start of his night. Then there had been Detective Douche and that was… a mystery. Lucifer had never paid him much attention. As far as he was concerned, Detective Decker’s ex-husband was nothing but a douchebag. Perhaps an attractive one, though not as much as Linda would seem to believe, but he wasn’t anything special. He was still trying to understand the connection between him and Detective Decker. Besides the job they didn’t seem to have much in common. And love for their daughter, but that had happened during the marriage, as a consequence, not a creator of it.

He looked to the liquid in his glass, looking for answer. But as usual, none were forthcoming. Alcohol was great for many things, unfortunately not for divination. Maybe he should get the tea leaves, but truly, it had been eons since he’d last read them, and anyhow, it was for Detective Douche he wanted answers, not for himself. His questions were… well, not that hard to figure out, really.

Lucifer got up, deciding that he had several trips to make. If he wanted answers, there simply was no other way but to go and get them.

.

He was vulnerable. Chloe Decker made him vulnerable. Lucifer light up a cigarette and took a drag from it. It didn’t affect him that much, certainly wouldn’t kill him, but he enjoyed the habit.

Anyway, back to his troubled mind. It didn’t come as a complete surprise, not really, but it was still unsettling, to say the least. He didn’t know how to move on from this. He decided to get some distance between them, for starters. If it got around a human made him mortal… he didn’t want to imagine what horrible things could pass, and not just for himself.

Lucifer started walking towards the club, to get another drink, which he was in dire need of, but decided otherwise.

Detective Decker hadn’t been the only one he’d had questions for that night, and since it was still early, why not continue on the same path?

He got in the car and went left towards Detective Douche’s home. He’d certainly never had any reason to visit, but he’d memorized his address, as he did most things. You never knew what could come in handy.

Outside the small house – certainly smaller than Detective Decker’s or his own flat – Lucifer didn’t give himself a chance to doubt himself, not that that ever happened, of course. Actions were made to be taken, not thought of, and anyhow, he was already there, turning back now would simply be a waste of effort.

He rang the doorbell, which was more than he usually did for most people. Not that Detective Douche would appreciate the thought, he imagined. The man disliked him greatly, not that Lucifer would say the feeling wasn’t mutual. Yet, he’d gone to save his life… perhaps Daniel Espinoza wasn’t as black and white as he’d first believed.

“What do you want?” Detective Douche asked after opening the door. He was leaning against the wall, grabbing onto his stomach with one hand while the other held a pack of ice against his head.

“Well, well, you don’t look so good, Daniel,” Lucifer replied, and truly he didn’t. There were bruises all over his face and he figured the rest of his body looked about the same, if not worse. He wondered what had cause such damage.

Detective Douche rolled his eyes, “yeah, thanks, I hadn’t noticed.”

Lucifer didn’t reply and they were left in silence until finally he raised an eyebrow, “aren’t you going to invite me in?”

Detective Douche blinked several times, like that was the last thing he’d been expecting to hear, while Lucifer just stood with his back straight, his hands in front of his body and an expectant look on his face. Honestly, the lack of manners in some humans never managed to astound him.

“You know what? Sure. Why don’t you come on in, Lucifer,” Detective Douche finally said, stepping back and taking his hand from his stomach to offer the living room, though of course with a sarcastic look that Lucifer chose to ignore.

Lucifer entered and looked around curiously. It was a one floor house, with the living room right there, which consisted of a simple couch, a TV and several shelves, with more books than he’d been expecting, and a lot of CDs. There were three doors, which he assumed led to the bedroom, kitchen and bathroom. He went to inspect the CDs, leaving Detective Douche to do whatever he wanted to.

He started walking towards one of the doors.

Before opening it, Detective Douche looked back at him, with a conflicted face. Lucifer, of course, just kept going through the CDs calmly.

“Would you like some tea?” Lucifer did look back at him at that, once again with a raised eyebrow.

“Tea? Why, Detective, I always thought you to be more of a beer guy.”

“And I usually am, but not when I’m on pills,” Detective Douche said and ah, how responsible.

“Some tea would be great,” Lucifer finally took him up on his offer, if simply because he hadn’t had a good cup in a long while. Not that he expected great tea, but hopefully Daniel wouldn’t completely ruin it. Anyhow, he’d never met an American that could make tea like the British.

Detective Douche nodded and walked through the door, leaving Lucifer alone once again. He wondered if he was already too high to care that he was leaving a man he didn’t like alone in his house, if he was usually so careless about who he let in his house, or if he simply didn’t think Lucifer would be up to no good if left alone. It was that last possibility that made him the most uneasy, but he moved it from his mind.

He found a great variety of CDs, as well as books. There were many in Spanish and he had wondered if the good Detective spoke the language or simply had a Latino surname.

He grabbed a Gabriel García Márquez’s romance, in its original version and started going through its pages. Lucifer had, of course, read it, in Spanish as well, yet it was a romance he counted in his favourite list.

“You speak Spanish?” Detective Douche asked, making him raise his head, but not showing his surprise in any other way. If the Detective was disappointed for not having startled him, he didn’t show it.

“Sí,” he replied simply and put the book back on its place. Detective Douche organized his books by author and not theme. Interesting.

Detective Douche was simply standing in the middle of the room, with the two teas on his hands, and Lucifer almost laughed, because the cups looked very small in his big hands, not to mention how ridiculous he looked holding them with a face full of bruises. But he didn’t, instead going to him and picking up one of the cups.

He took a sip from it and as expected, it wasn’t that great of tea. But it wasn’t that bad either, he grudgingly admitted to himself.

“Not up for your British standards?”

“I’m not British,” Lucifer said, not sure why. “I just have the accent. Well, and the manners and charm, of course.”

Detective Douche rolled his eyes, but he looked comfortable, “of course.”

Lucifer moved to sit in one of the sofas without being offered one, but really, he was just making up for Detective Douche’s outrageous manners. How had Penelope Decker lived with such a son-in-law, he would never understand.

Detective Douche stood standing a couple more seconds, but finally moved to the armchair to the left of the sofa, making a noise of pain when he was finally sitting.

“Did you crack one of your ribs?” Lucifer asked, more curious than actually worried. If the Detective had been that bad, then he wouldn’t even be moving around. Not that that would make him worried, of course.

“I don’t think so. Just sore. Getting kicked repeatedly isn’t exactly good for your ribs. Who would have known,” Detective Douche said with a bit of a smirk and took a sip from his cup. Lucifer made a hm sound, expecting an explanation, since most people usually just kept talking if given a chance, but not this one. Daniel just kept drinking from his tea.

“So, why are you really here?” He finally asked, leaning back against the sofa, which Lucifer blinked at. That looked like a comfortable position, not a guarded one, like the one he expected Detective Douche to have around him, and like he usually sported. He blamed it on the pills.

Lucifer took a sip from his tea before answering. “You don’t like me; in fact, you despise me. Yet, you went to warn me that Malcolm was coming to harm me. Strange. Why not just let him kill me? I’m sure you wouldn’t shed a tear.”

“Are you serious?” Daniel asked and put the cup on the little table across from it. “It doesn’t matter what I feel about you. It’s my job to protect people. Even ones that I don’t like and want the hell away from my family.”

Lucifer came very close to starting an argument over that, on how it wasn’t completely his family, not anymore, but decided that it wasn’t worth it. They’d be back to their old ways soon enough, he imagined.

Anyhow, that was an unimaginative answer. Honestly, he didn’t know why he’d expected anything more.

Yet, when he looked at Daniel… he wasn’t looking back at him, instead staring at his cup. He looked pensive, perhaps even… guilty? There was something there. Lucifer went to ask him what he was, make him want to tell him his darkest desires, as everyone wanted (not counting Chloe, which he wasn’t going to, because one outlier shouldn’t ruin his perfect record), but something stopped him. He didn’t expect a very interesting answer to come out of it, but he had to admit that he had the most fun when humans gave him unexpected ones. Perhaps Daniel Espinoza would give one of those too… or maybe not. Probably not. Yet, Lucifer decided he’d let this one slip him by.

He took another sip from his tea.

“What happened to your face? And to the rest of your body, which I assume doesn’t look very good either.”

“Thanks,” Detective Douche said in a sarcastic tone, but at least he didn’t look uncomfortable anymore. Or at least no more than usual. “Just got into some trouble,” he shrugged, but just because he hadn’t told him what was troubling him, it didn’t mean Lucifer wasn’t capable of seeing something had definitely gone down.

Had he regretted sending that text to Chloe and gone to search for trouble? Honestly, humans… always changing their minds and expecting things to just go as they wanted… He truly didn’t understand them sometimes.

“And how did you know Detective ‘Stache was coming after me?” He asked looking into his eyes.

“Oh, he has a nickname too? And here I thought I was special,” Detective Douche replied with a smile and Lucifer knew he hadn’t answered, that had been the most obvious deflection he had ever heard, it had been a complete 180º but he couldn’t care at that particular moment because Daniel had also just made a joke. At him.

… Since when did he have a sense of humour?

“I’m not always a jackass, you know,” Detective Douche said after rolling his eyes. Apparently Lucifer had questioned him out loud. Oops. “It’s just when I’m around you. Must be the accent.”

And he kept joking. What was going on? Whatever special pills he’d been given, Lucifer wanted some. They seemed fun.

Detective Douche picked up the tea and took a sip, starting to hum afterwards. Lucifer got up, deciding it was time he left.

Daniel looked up at him and he definitely had a little glaze on his eyes, though there was still something sharp there, just like in Detective Decker’s eyes and perhaps he was starting to realize why the two of them had gotten along so well in the first place.

Lucifer bent down to kiss him on the lips. It wasn’t sexual in the least. He wouldn’t sleep with an altered man, anyhow. He could inflict pain very easily, but he could also take it. Not completely, but slightly. He didn’t know why, but he decided to do it for Daniel, who was actually kissing back.

He had put a hand on Lucifer’s face, making circles with his thumb next to his ear. It wasn’t a kiss full of lust, there was no tongue, in fact, Lucifer didn’t remember the last time he’d had such an innocent kiss or one that wouldn’t lead to sex, but he couldn’t say it was completely horrible.

He pulled back. It really was time go to home.

“Thanks,” Daniel said with a small smile and perhaps Linda didn’t need to change her glasses.

Lucifer didn’t reply, just nodded, and finally walked away to the door.

Once at it, he opened it and turned his head slightly to look at Daniel. He was looking back, no longer smiling, instead with a thoughtful look and Lucifer smiled at him, not a kind one, the one he only shared very rarely, but the one that reminded people that he was THE Lucifer and he took what he wanted. It wasn’t a threat, just a reminder, to see what Daniel’s next move would be.

Detective Douche raised an eyebrow and took a sip from his tea. Lucifer’s laughter accompanied him to his car.

 


End file.
